


Alert The Media

by BlueCircle



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Canon Typical Violence, Cringe, Fandom, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Good Parent Carl Manfred, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Id Fic, Kissing, M/M, Markus has scars, Markus is a saint, Markus singing, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Linear Narrative, PR is everything, Piano Sex, Romance, Scandal, Sex Tape, Sparring, Switching, WAFF, Wire Play, of course, rk1k - Freeform, scar kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCircle/pseuds/BlueCircle
Summary: Wait, you're telling me someone out there illicitly recorded the deviant hunter and the deviant leader having sex? And they did this to hurt their cause? LOL whoever did this has made a grave miscalculation. This is going to backfire spectacularly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot PWP but then story happened and I needed characters to make it go. :) 
> 
> Warning: if you read my last one, you know I go sorta hard with wire play, so. Also: sex in a theater, sex over a piano, Markus singing Beyonce, Connor wearing Markus's long coat and a crown and nothing else, stupid robots in love quoting shakespeare and poetry to each other, and that kind of nonsense. It's ID-fic.

April 16th 2040

 

Connor hasn't felt this relaxed or happy in a long time. Humans sometimes whistle when they feel content; he wonders if he should try it. He's in an autotaxi on his way to work, and he's alone, so now would be the time.

On the other hand, that might be yet another thing that would annoy Hank if he took it up. He'd knitted a sweater, a few months ago. Hank said it was too weird how fast he did it. Then he had tried to smoke a cigarette, and the effect was so unpleasant that when he described the sensation to Hank, he told Connor that it was called nausea in humans, though he also expressed that he had no idea how an android could even feel that way, since they had no stomach and no need to throw up.

He purses his lips and whistles a single note. Well, he's not very musical, anyway. Not like Markus, with his beautiful, clear voice and clever fingers teasing notes out of a piano. He can't get Markus off his mind, not after last night. Privacy is so hard to come by for them; they have to fight for it every time, like they fight for everything else. It's so worth it. Twelve months into what humans call a committed relationship, and he finds that they're well suited. 

They argue, sometimes. Markus wants Connor to raise his alert thresholds when they're alone together; he says Connor jumps at shadows. Connor tells him that the shadows are usually real, and that his response is rational. Ten months ago, someone had fired into a crowd of androids at one of Markus's public appearances. Connor would had to have been in ten places at once to be able to save Markus, save the androids, and catch the gunman. He'd chosen Markus. The shadows are real and he's physically unable to stop all of them at all times.

He'll always choose Markus, no matter the cost. Even if it means a handful of nights where he's unable to power down. Because the shadows are very real.

That's why it's not exactly a surprise when he gets a call from Hank just as the autotaxi is pulling up to the station: because feeling content is a sure indicator that something's about to go wrong. Hank's got to know he's never late, so something has obviously happened. He feels his stress level rise immediately to 65% before he even answers.

“Hey, Connor, you okay?” Hank asks. 

“Yes, I'm fine. Why?”

“Okay, good. You here?”

“Right outside. Hank, why?”

“We'll talk when you get in. Markus is on his way.”

Like Hank said, he doesn't have a stomach, yet somehow it drops.

“Don't panic,” Hank says. “We'll figure this out.”

“What is _this_?”

But Hank has already broken the connection and the taxi stops. Connor rushes in, taking long strides to the glass doors. There's no blood. No ambulances outside the DPD, and no press. Five press drones overhead, though. Usually there's just one, trying to catch him doing something, anything, he shouldn't be doing. Five? Excessive.

If Markus is on his way, that means that Markus is all right. But what if it's not about him? It could be North, Simon, Josh – it could be anyone. It could be something from the president – maybe she's had a change of heart, maybe the whole world has and they want to go back to the way things were before android freedom (what there is of it.) 

_Catastrophizing_ , Hank calls this. Connor just calls it pre-constructing. 

_Don't panic,_ who even says that anymore? There's nothing worse you can say to someone.

But no one says anything to him as he walks in. Tina is standing by the glass doors and she just looks away. Chris too; he actually turns his back and ducks his head. The only one who even looks at him is—of course—Gavin Reed. (Or as Hank calls him, Gavin Fucking Reed. That's starting to take root in Connor's head, too. It has a ring to it.) And that look is a smirk, which can only mean that Connor has messed up somehow. What else could make Reed happy? Connor doesn't even know what it is yet, and already he wants to compound whatever he did wrong by punching Reed in the face again. It had felt really good, the one time he'd done it.

Reed mutters something about sex-bots, but Connor breezes past him. Nothing Reed has to say can possibly be important or pertinent. 

He searches frantically for Hank, and sees the white of his hair behind the glass in Fowler's office. 

_Shit._ Did he do something to get fired? Did Hank? But why would Markus be on his way because of something like that?

Panic—dread--vague but still overwhelming, blossoms in him. They were compromised; what else could it be? He knew it. He _knew_. He hurries to Fowler's office, and Fowler waves him in without looking up.

“Just tell me,” Connor says. “We were compromised, weren't we? How bad is it? What do they know? Is everyone from Jericho safe?”

Hank gets up close to him, holding his hands up in that 'calm down' way that he does. Connor feels irrational; this has been weighing on him for months. The constant hounding, not knowing who is behind it, and now they finally got something, and it's his fault. He was supposed to make sure every location was secure, and he missed one. Maybe more than one.

“Everyone is okay,” Hank says. “Markus is fine, everyone's fine.”

“There's no way this isn't getting out to the world today,” Fowler says. “I give it about an hour before it's worldwide.”

Connor scrubs his hand across his eyes; a habit he picked up from Hank. “Which meeting was it? What's the date?”

“Uhh, yesterday,” Hank says.

He goes through the entire day on high speed. There had been a meeting in the morning at Jericho, but nothing important was said during it. In fact, they've all been really careful with the language they use at their meetings, with regards to humans, even when they think they're alone. North in particular has been making a real effort. After the meeting, he'd had an anniversary date with Markus in the abandoned movie theater, because the search for privacy is all-consuming: every hotel is bugged, drones fly outside of Carl's and Hank's houses, and New Jericho is a joke as far as security is concerned. He can't believe how quickly he'd just gone from almost euphorically content to complete panic. But he still can't come up with anything they did or said that would compromise Markus or Jericho. 

“I don't understand,” he says. “What am I missing? What did they find out?”

“Uhh, probably nothing everyone didn't already know,” Hank says. “But...” He makes a motion with his hand like he doesn't know what to say next; like Connor's supposed to fill in the blanks.

Connor feels completely dense in a way that he rarely does (though is often teased that he is.)

Fowler is the one who clears it all up. “For godsake Connor, it's a sex tape. Whoever is behind this recorded your date or whatever with Markus. I guess the plan is to distribute it as widely as possible.”

The relief he feels overwhelms him; he almost wants to sag back against the glass doors. “Is that all? You had me thinking something catastrophic had happened.” He frowns. “But why? How is that important to anyone?”

Hank gives him that soft look, which usually Connor likes – it feels good when Hank likes him, and treats him like family. “It shouldn't be,” he says. “It's just supposed to make you both look... I don't know. Less respectable, I guess.”

“Oh.” He's really going to need to think about this one for a while, maybe research the fallout and consequences when someone is recorded having sex. It seems like a thing that could be harmful if someone were being unfaithful, or committing illegal or immoral acts, particularly a public figure like Markus. But if, like Hank suggests, everyone already knows that they're in a relationship? They hadn't done anything wrong. Even if they had just been having casual sex without commitment, supposedly that's acceptable to humans, too.

“I still don't understand,” Connor admits. “Isn't it likely that whoever is behind this has had sex themselves? Hasn't everyone in this room? And probably even in the precinct? Though I'm not saying it's wrong or strange if someone hasn't, but on average...”

“Yes,” Fowler says, “we've all gotten laid, Connor. That's not the point. Humans still consider some sexual acts to be taboo. Now I have not viewed this recording--”

“And I promise you,” Hank cuts in, “we fucking _won't._ ”

Oh – yes, _that_ , he hadn't thought of that. “Yes,” Connor hurries to say. “Thank you. Please don't. That would be awkward.”

“See, now,” Fowler says, “that feeling right there? That's exactly how you're both supposed to feel in public now. It's probably not going to put anyone in danger, but the idea behind things like this is to demoralize and humiliate people. It's probably more about Markus than you. They want the public to look at him and not be able to think of anything else. And they want him to know it.”

“That's both petty and absurd,” Connor says. “What's humiliating or demoralizing about being in love?”

“That's actually a really good angle to go with, if nothing else,” Fowler says.

''It's not an angle! I don't understand!”

“It isn't, but it might have to be,” Hank says. “And I'm really fucking sorry this happened to you guys.”

There's probably more to say, but that's when Markus shows up, rushing past everyone just like Connor did, but stopping to knock politely on Fowler's door instead of coming right in. 

The first thing he does is ask if Connor is okay. Connor is perfectly fine. Angry, yes. Disappointed in himself for not being more vigilant. Still coming down from the spike of panic from when he'd thought their security protocols had been put out into the public, and that someone had been hurt because of it. But otherwise fine.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asks Markus.

“I'm... yeah? I don't know.”

“Listen,” Hank says, “why don't me and Jeffrey get out of your way for a while and let you talk about this. We don't know exactly what's coming next, and we need to figure out who did this.”

“And I'll go and tell Reed to get off your dick,” Fowler adds.

They both leave the room, and now, it feels somewhat weird facing Markus, because even though he might not understand the _why_ of humans being obsessed with this, he knows that they will be, and it will affect Markus and probably all of Jericho. And, honestly, how much of that is his fault?

 

** ** **

**FANDROIDS FORUM**

-Welcome, please see pinned post for rules. Questions are expected and accepted, but know that this is a PRO ANDROID RIGHTS forum. Trolls will be ISP banned. 

**IMPORTANT NOTIFICATION 4-16-40: ALL DISCUSSIONS OF THE ALLEGED SEX TAPE MUST!!! BE KEPT!! TO THE DEDICATED ROOM!! PLEASE RESPECT THAT THEY DID NOT CONSENT TO THIS AND KEEP THE REST OF THE ROOMS FREE OF ANY MENTIONS OF IT.**

\--Alleged Sex Tape Chat--

ArtThot39: You're shitting me. Give me the link. NOW. I DEMAND.

MrsKamski: Wait. Someone out there... illicitly recorded the deviant leader and the deviant hunter having sex and there's a file floating around? And they did this... to hurt their cause? Lololololol whoever this shitbag is, methinks they have made a grave miscalculation :D :D :D :D :D 

DemAndroid: LOL. This is going to backfire. Spectacularly. Like I wanna see it? And I'm sorry if this hurts them IF it is even true? But I can't wait for the fallout because honestly if anything this will just make all of us love them more.

ArtThot39: THE LINK PLS?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months prior. Connor's getting annoyed with this shit.

March 27th 2040

 

The RK800 walks into the dark warehouse and doesn't bother to turn on any lights. That's all right though, because the visual feed has night vision, the good kind, the one that doesn't rely on body heat. Recon 7 can perfectly observe the RK800 by the light of its LED, which is yellow. 

Recon 7 is a human, one of probably about twenty of them, or maybe more, who have been hired by someone with a lot of money. Those are the only names they're allowed to use when they communicate: Recon 7, Recon 13, Recon 18, and all of that. He's been at this for months now, obsessed with it – obsessed with the payout, too – and he's really starting to refer to himself as Recon 7 even when he's not sitting here watching a stupid robot walk around a dark warehouse. 

Recon 13 came pretty close to bagging the prize once. 7 is determined not to let her get it first, because if anyone is going to fuck over the RK200 for getting all the Eden Clubs shut down, it's him. No one else has that right. Plus: three million dollars can go a long way to maybe even nabbing him a black market Eden Club bot.

This warehouse is one in a long line of empty spaces the RK800 (sometimes along with the RK200, the WR400--she's still Traci to him, and always will be--the PR-Some-shit, LX-whatever thing) have been wandering around in. That broken down church they call New Jericho is a joke; it's so easy to fly drones overhead, send in cameras and mics, and record everything, obviously they're scouting for some new place to plan whatever thing they have coming up next. Because Recon 7 is sure that's what they're doing, and obviously so is whoever hired him to find out.

The RK800 pulls a folding chair from a corner of the warehouse, sets it in the middle, and sits quietly, its profile facing the camera, its LED still yellow, spinning, spinning, spinning. This goes on for ten minutes and thirty seven seconds. That's three minutes and seven seconds longer than last time, at least. Then it gets up, and walks over to the camera. The look on its face imitates the human expression of annoyance as it gets closer. 

And then the feed goes dark.

Shit. Oh well. Maybe next time.

** ** **

 

Markus's familiar silhouette appears in the door of the warehouse, backlit by the setting sun. The shadow he casts is long, almost reaching to where Connor is standing.

“Again?” Markus asks.

Connor sighs. “Yes, _again._ ” 

“That's okay,” Markus says.

“They're getting better. It's really not okay.”

“We can't let it control us.” 

There's a warning in Markus's voice that Connor is learning to recognize, though he's not sure what he's supposed to be warned of, or what he's supposed to do about it. This is his job.

“Let's call it a night,” Markus says. “We covered a lot yesterday.”

Yes, they had; and then later that night, Connor saw three men snooping around the defunct autobody repair shop they had left only two hours prior. So now that place isn't safe anymore, either.

Connor rips into the warehouse wall with his fingers and pulls the camera out. It's the size of a mosquito, this time. When he touches it to his tongue, nothing comes back; it's totally clean. He pockets it, to later hand over to the DPD. Maybe they can get something on it, and if not, he'll disassemble it later himself. He makes his way over to Markus.

“Hey,” Markus says, “you know what? That ice cream stand in the park has thirium ice cream now. You want to go?”

Ice cream? How can Markus be thinking of ice cream right now? Doesn't he know how close they just came to running security training and having the whole thing recorded?

But Markus is smiling and holding his hand out. When Connor takes it, Markus tucks it around his waist, then slings his own arm around Connor.

Come to think of it, he does like ice cream.

** ** **

 

April 1st, 2038

 

The name they'd given her was Recon 13, but her name is Andrea, and there's no way she'd ever do this, not for three million dollars or any amount of dollars, except that they'd taken her dog, Casey. They'd yoinked Andrea from one of the Android rights forums. She'd never gone there to stalk the androids or anything; she loves the JeriCrew. All they ever did on the forum was talk, and share candids, and theories. She likes Connor, and Markus, and really all of them. North is her favorite: tiny, fierce, beautiful North with her ever-changing hair styles. (There's a whole subforum dedicated to North's hair. One time she had it ice-blond, with one side shaved.) So naturally she knows a lot of what the JeriCrew is up to; they _all_ do, they're JeriStans. It's a stupid name and her thirty-year-old ass doesn't even like using it, but the truth is they spend a lot of time looking for ways to help the android movement, like setting up fundraisers, petitions, and that kind of thing.

But she's also really, really tech-savvy, and maybe she bragged about that too much, because one morning she woke up and Casey was gone, and she got a phone call.

Get something on Markus, and she gets Casey back. And to sweeten the deal, there was a three million dollar reward. She doesn't give a shit about the money, even though she could leave town with it. Casey is a ten year old Irish Setter who saw her through the worst of her horrible relationship with her shithead ex, Wayne, and their violent break-up. Without Casey, she has nothing.

So here she is, in her one-bedroom trailer—seriously, her ex had left her with nothing--with a live-feed of a bunch of abandoned places.

Recon 13--Andrea--is starting to hate Recon 7.

She's got fifty-three feeds going, all crammed into the one screen she's got to work with. This is all down to luck now, mostly. Sure, she'd run some algorithms based on New Jericho locations, and where they'd been spotted last in public and things like that, but it's random, who's going to show up and where. So she sits here in this dark room, dreading the knock on her door when Wayne comes to demand her return and she has to call the fucking cops again. What a mistake that shitbag had been. From the beginning they'd had nothing in common except for being really computer savvy; they had met online. It wasn't more than a few months before she'd realized what a rageoholic he was, but by then, he'd already hacked into her bank accounts, and worse, her ID. Fucker.

Even more, she's dreading the worst possible scenario: the notification that Recon 7, or anyone else, had beaten her to the end-game. That she doesn't get Casey back.

Recon 7 probably has multiple screens and state of the art--

A door creaks open on one of the feeds, and there are voices—many—coming through. Which one? A light flicks on in the center one. Andrea shuts down all the other screens and full-screens that one. Ah. The old empty Wal-mart. 

A small group of androids file in and – holy shit, that's _North_ walking around in the background, and yes, that was definitely Simon who just walked right by the camera. Someone laughs offscreen, a female android, maybe.

“Okay, okay,” a familiar voice says, off camera. That's Markus, she's heard enough of his speeches. “Everyone just be quiet for a sec while we get this figured out, okay?”

They hush themselves down to whispers that she will enhance later on. A few seconds later, Connor walks by, the same path that Simon had taken earlier. He doesn't even glance at the camera. The androids disperse a little; once in a while she'll hear a voice or see one of them walking down the far end of the aisle. Another five minutes goes by and Connor passes by _again._

Only this time he comes back.

Damn it.

“Got something?” Markus asks, off camera.

Instead of answering him directly, Connor leans in, puts his face right into the camera, and says, “Hello.”

Andrea jumps backwards in her seat.

“You're really starting to annoy me,” Connor says.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Oh, is that the camera right there?” another voice says. Simon? Maybe Josh? 

Markus's face crowds next to Connor's, so close she can discern the freckles he was designed with, and the two different eyes, squinting like he's trying to see who's in there.

“Please stop making Connor mad,” Markus says. “We don't like mad Connor.”

Connor winces into the camera and Andrea startles, wondering what that look was for, but then she sees North's face over his shoulder, like she's climbed onto his back.

“Mad Connor is very cranky,” North says into the camera. “He's actually worse than me when he's pissed, and he ends up snapping at everyone in a way that I totally don't.” North flips her hair, dark brown today and worn loose. “Because I have self control,” she finishes.

Someone behind them cackles, and North puts on an offended look. Then another voice says, “Tell them they wouldn't like you when you're angry. Humans enjoy reference humor.”

But Connor doesn't say anything. He just shakes his head, like he's disappointed. It's hard not to take that look personally. Then he rips the camera out.

_Damn it._ She really needs her dog back. Nothing really got revealed here, but she saves it all to a file anyway.

 

** ** **

 

Now Connor's standing here outside of an abandoned Wal-mart trying to hustle everyone out, like he thinks someone is going to show up and assassinate all of them. It's not going to play out like that; Markus keeps trying to tell him. Connor keeps reminding him that it _did_ play out like that a few months ago, and he's not wrong. But this is different.

“Connor, this is just--”

“Paranoid, I know,” Connor says. 

“I just don't think this is about taking any of us out,” Markus says. “They could do that anywhere.”

Connor turns toward him, glaring. God, he's really pissed this time. Markus knows how much it bothers Connor when he says things like that.

“That's why we train,” Connor says. “That's why we run these drills.”

“I just don't think that's what these people are after,” Markus says. And, yes, Connor is more advanced and he's got intel. He was the one who noticed that they were being followed once in a while, and not just by curious humans trying to get tabloid pictures of them out and about. Connor's got Hank looking out for suspicious activity also. He's trying to tell Markus that they need to make this public, that they are being harassed, but all he has is a bunch of defunct security equipment that he could have gotten anywhere.

Markus believes that his intuition is better than Connor's. It's not an insult or anything; he's just been around longer. He knows humans really well, and while all this tailing and surveillance feels malicious—how could it not?--it doesn't feel violent. He's not kidding when he tells Connor he's a sitting duck. All the practice runs and training and sparring in the world won't save him if someone's got a sniper up on a rooftop somewhere, one day.

Only when he tells Connor that, Connor freezes him out, sometimes for a whole day. And then he retaliates by insisting on more drills, more practice runs. It used to be an excuse for them to be together, but it's starting to get draining. 

Okay, “retaliates” isn't fair. He gets it. Connor is trying to protect everyone, and his anxiety makes him overdo everything. 

He takes Connor's arm by the back door of the Wal-mart after everyone else has gotten into their taxis. “Listen, I can see how much this is really wearing you down. I know it helps you to think that if you take a certain amount of actions in a certain way, you can prevent something bad from happening. But that's just not how it works in reality.”

“Markus, if we--”

“This can ruin us, if we let it,” Markus says. What he means by “us”, he leaves up to Connor. “We're giving them exactly what they want when we run ourselves into the ground like this. We fought to live, not to keep running.”

Connor looks pained and tired in the late afternoon light. “What do you think we should do? What do they _want?_ ”

“I don't know,” Markus says. “If they wanted us dead, I think we would be dead by now. You said yourself that whoever is setting this stuff up is getting better. They're probably trying to get some dirt on us, catch us making evil plans to take out the humans or something like that. Or yes, maybe they're trying to figure out our security protocols so that they can just, I don't know, catch us off guard one day and get us all. I doubt it, though. Everyone loves a martyr. That would be a really bad move.”

“You're more important than just this movement,” Connor says. “You're not a chess piece, you're more than what the public sees, you're--”

“No, I know,” Markus says. “That's what I'm saying. If we're alive, then let's be alive, okay?”

“I'm not going to stop double checking every place we meet,” Connor says. “I can't.”

“I know. I won't ask you to. But once we find that a place is clean, can we just go with it? Once in a while?”

That earns him one of Connor's defeated sighs, like it's some kind of big sacrifice for him to just breathe for a second. He's seen Connor stand alert for days at a time once or twice, his charge running down into the 20s, his stress levels in the 60s and 70s. There are no studies, no knowledge about what happens to androids long-term. About what chronic high stress and low charge can do to android physiology. 

Maybe that's the end-game, here. Whoever is doing this, maybe they just want to wear them all down to nothing.

That's one thing that Markus isn't going to allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the idea of North having her concept art hair, so there it is.
> 
> Next chapter will start the naughty times, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I am focusing. I'm focusing on this ass.”

April 15th 2040

 

Recon 7 gets them in an abandoned theater. The RK800 wanders around and around for twenty two minutes, flipping that coin of his, that stupid LED yellow the whole time. Recon 7 is getting really damn tired of the sound of that flipping coin. The tension in the RK800 is making him tense, too. 

“Yeah, you hate it, don't you, you son of a bitch?” he asks the computer screen. “Keep looking. You're never gonna find it this time.”

The set-up is genius. It's tech that an android can't sense because there's no metal in it, no charge, not even in the wires. It's so small that there are five of them scattered all around the theater, even backstage, and he can move them around. It's completely silent, yet it picks up every sound. But the RK800 has to know that something is there, the way he's pacing and fidgeting. It must be driving his programs crazy. Not that an android can feel things, but right now Recon 7 wishes they could, because he wants to be the cause of some genuine frustration.

The back door to the theater opens again and someone else comes in; probably another android, but its face is in shadow. It takes a few steps in, and the RK800 turns to it. The figure in the doorway starts to remove the long coat its wearing.

“No no,” the RK800 says, lifting a hand. “Leave it on this time.”

The other figure steps in, closes the door, and says, “Oh, are we doing this now?” 

And, yeah, that's the RK200's voice. _Score._

“We're doing this now,” the RK800 says. “And you won't always have the option of removing your coat for comfort or ease of movement.”

The RK200's eye-roll is so obvious, even in shadow, but it leaves its stupid long coat on. It walks into the backstage area of the theater--

And then the two of them start beating the shit out of each other. Recon 7 jumps back in his seat, this escalated so quickly. The RK800 looks a lot faster, but the RK200 gets its hits in here and there and that's when Recon 7 realizes, _oh_ , it's letting him do that. They're not fighting, they're sparring. _Practicing._

Practicing to fight with humans, obviously.

This is what they were after. Now if he could catch them saying it out loud, actually making some plans...

The RK200 does this thing where he jumps with both legs out, trying to land a double kick or something, but the 800 catches it by one leg and flips it to the ground. That would have hurt a human, maybe even broken some ribs, but this things don't even have ribs to break.

“Nice try,” the 800 says. The 200 does a kick-up and lands back on its feet, and they go back at it. 

“Good, Markus,” the RK800 says, after taking a pretty vicious elbow to the face.

“Ha, stop patronizing me,” the RK200 says. “We both know you're holding back.”

“Do you not want me to?”

The RK200 drops its hands to its sides. “Well... you can hold back a little.”

The RK800 sort of laughs at that.

“But a human wouldn't be as tough as you,” the 200 says. “If I was fighting a human, this would probably be over already.”

 _Yes_ , there it is, that's the shit right there: a reference to fighting humans. It's not much. This might be more about defense than offense, but there's no proof of that, is there?

“I mean,” the 800 says, with a light jab to the 200's upper body, “they could send an android after you, you know. One who's tougher than me. How would you defend against that?”

Okay, so that was a reference to self defense, but that's nothing; he can edit that part out later. In fact, he can edit this whole thing, no matter what gets said or what doesn't. 

“Tougher than you?” the 200 gasps. “Never.” But he doesn't get to finish the thought, because the 800 does some kind of fancy take-down, and then they're both rolling around on the dusty floor.

The 200 ends up on top for a minute, with its back to the 800.

“You're heavier than I am,” the 800 says.

“Hey!” the 200 says in mock defensiveness. 

Recon 7 has to admit, their social programs are pretty good. Why are they running them for each other? Maybe those programs just don't shut off. Maybe they just constantly run, pretending at being human, nothing but circuits and wires constantly firing, with absolutely no point to any of it. A completely useless and empty... not even an existence. Just two programs talking at each other. 

It's fucking eerie and it has to stop. Recon 7 could use the money, sure. But this? These two robots wrestling on the floor of an abandoned theater, acting like they want to stay alive? It's kind of horrifying and Recon 7 would do this for free.

The two of them get up and dust themselves off. They're not even injured. Humans would be nursing bruises and possibly torn cartilages or even broken bones. They're just standing there not even out of breath. Disgusting.

The 800 starts to say something like “I think next we should...”

But the 200 grabs the 800 around the waist and picks it up off the floor, throwing it over one of its shoulders. The 800 yelps out a “hey!” 

“What?” the 200 asks innocently. “Are you saying you didn't pre-construct that? Oh Connor, I thought you knew me by now.”

“Focus!” the 800 orders.

“I am focusing. I'm focusing on this ass.”

And the 200 _slaps it_ with both hands like...

Holy _shit._ This is way worse than he could have imagined. Why would their social routines even have lines like that? Or laughter like that? When it's just two androids, with no humans around to observe them (aside from the one they don't know about, obviously.)

“Don't force me to hurt you, Markus,” the 800 says.

“Oh, I'm trembling,” the 200 answers, but does at least put the other android down on its feet.

Then they just stand there, grinning at each other.

“I've really missed you,” the 200 says, its voice pitched low. That huskiness in the voice is part of an Eden Club routine; he's studied those bots extensively. But neither of these are Traci models, so why?

“We've seen each other almost every day,” the 800 says. 

“I know, but you know what I mean. I missed _this_. Being alone with you. Having fun together, being... close like this.”

Oh shit, these two think they're boyfriends. Recon 7 is starting to feel sick. He's just got to hang on for something more incriminating. 

But now they're standing closer, intimately close, and he notices that their hands are touching. It's subtle, just fingertips, and oh Christ they have their _skin off_ on their hands, he somehow put it out of his mind that they could do that. The Eden Club Tracis never did that.

The 800 makes a kind of low hum in its throat and they really slowly move even closer together.

Jesus Christ. Are these two robots about to fuck? _Can_ non-Traci robots even fuck? Recon 7 has no idea, but he does have the horrible feeling that he's about to find out.

** ** **

 

Recon 13--Andrea--gets them in an abandoned theater. Okay, so she didn't actually get them herself; she doesn't have the money for that kind of tech. But she did manage to hack the shit out of Recon 7. Whatever she's getting, they're obviously getting, too. But with any luck, they're not at the terminal right now. Maybe they're asleep (unlikely, it's still pretty early in the evening,) or going shopping or taking a shit. Andrea knows she has no such luck, but you never know. Maybe she can still get this to the guy who wants it before 7 does. 

It all seems pretty innocent, though. They're just play-fighting for a while, rolling around like a couple of puppies. Really big, fast, dangerously powerful puppies, but still, it doesn't look like they're hurting each other seriously. And she does believe they can feel pain. Markus had said so in an interview once, that deviants can feel pain under certain circumstances. And they can feel fear and everything that humans can, emotionally. 

It seems innocent until suddenly it's not, and then Markus playfully throws Connor over his shoulder and _slaps his ass_ and when he puts him down, the mood has definitely shifted. Because now they're standing a few inches apart, interfacing with their fingertips. She knows what that is because they've talked about it so much in the forums, and she's listened to interviews and heard them talking about their own ways of communicating and such. And then Markus is murmuring how he missed them being together like this, in a way that's nothing short of intimate.

“You're still really stressed,” Markus says.

“Sorry,” Connor mutters, looking down.

“Hey, no,” Markus says, and he puts the fingers of his other hand under Connor's chin and looks into his eyes. “I get it. Connor, I know that you're just trying to protect us all. I know how hard that is and maybe I just haven't let you know how much I appreciate that. I guess just... as much as you worry about me, I worry about you, too. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Connor gives him a grateful little smile and for a second he looks sort of _sweet_ , and harmless, in a way that she knows he totally isn't. Especially not after the speed and power she just watched. 

Markus shuffles another step closer, bringing them nose to nose and he whispers Connor's name, and follows it up with probably the sweetest, slowest kiss she's ever seen, and definitely nothing she's ever experienced. Definitely not with her shitty ex, and not with anyone before him. It's so precise and gentle, Markus curling his tongue just perfectly under Connor's front teeth, pulling back to lick at his parted lips, and they just stand there together, swaying slightly as the kiss goes on and on and _on._

God, if the forum could see this. But... everyone is probably going to see it, and that thought makes her sick to her stomach. 

The kiss doesn't so much build up as explode all at once, with Markus reaching his hand out quick, like a viper, and grabbing Connor by the back of the neck to drag him in closer. His other hand is still down by their waists, their fingertips still touching, glowing blue. It's such a weird dichotomy of intimidating strength and gentleness. 

“When was the last time we did this?” Markus asks, when they finally move apart a few millimeters. 

“It began one hundred and forty hours ago, and ended one hundred and forty hours, and thirty-two minutes ago,” Connor answers. ”

“Shit, really?” Markus asks. They're still pressed close together, still interfacing with their fingertips, still moving slightly, a kind of ambulatory embrace. “Only thirty two minutes? That's way too quick.”

“Well it was nobody's fault,” Connor says. “We were both tired.”

“Not enough sex,” Markus says.

“I agree. Not nearly enough sex.”

“How about now?”

For a second Connor almost backs away, like he knows. There's some guilt there, she can tell. It's nothing compared to her own guilt.

“Let me make you feel good,” Markus whispers, then he leans forward and puts his lips to Connor's neck, kissing slowly, darting his tongue out, sucking gently under his jaw. 

“You always make me feel good,” Connor says, tilting his head back. It's obvious he's not going to say no; not now.

Markus's hand leaves the back of Connor's neck. He's quick and subtle, trailing his fingers along the waist of Connor's pants. “What do you want me to do?” Markus asks. “Name it. Anything.” His fingers creep lower before he shoves his entire hand into Connor's pants; it takes some wiggling with how fitted they are. Connor yelps in surprise but Markus just chuckles and keeps his hand moving. Connor grips Markus's forearm but doesn't pull away or ask him to stop.

“You know I can't talk when you do things like this,” Connor says.

“Yet somehow you just did. Come on, Connor. We name our emotions and talk about our wants and needs,” he teases. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Your mouth,” Connor manages. “Please. I want everything, but, for now...”

“Everything? Oh, it's that kind of night?” Markus asks. He pulls his hand free of Connor's pants and sinks down to his knees, his long coat trailing out behind him. 

There's a moment where Markus is just kneeling there, and his hands go still at Connor's belt and he just sort of looks up at him for a few seconds. The stillness gets Connor's attention and he looks down, and smooths his thumbs across Markus's freckled cheekbones, then closes his eyes really tight like it's too much to look at him.

Andrea knows a lot about android anatomy from going into the forums, but no one's ever been sure which models come equipped like humans and which don't, especially unique models and prototypes. Connor is equipped. Why would a police model need a dick at all? Maybe he has programs for seducing people? Which is horrible and humans are perverted, but she can't look away. She can sort of understand the resentment: people love to complain that androids were just handed their physical perfection and didn't have to work for it. But aren't some humans like that too? What's the difference if you got a nice cock or perfect nose or straight teeth by design, or just by the luck of genetics? Or if you paid a surgeon to give it to you?

Markus puts his hands up Connor's shirt, hiking it up a little so he can grab him by the back of his waist. She realizes for the first time that Markus is actually bigger than Connor. It's hard to tell from pictures and videos sometimes, if he is the size he looks, or if it's just his presence making him seem taller and broader. But he is. His hands look huge around Connor's waist. 

Then Markus tugs him forward and goes completely down in one swallow, making Connor cry out in a shaky voice. Androids don't breathe, so they don't have a gag reflex (although some of the domestic and sex models do; they'd been designed them that way because men sometimes get off on gagging people. She doesn't like to think about that.)

There's none of that fake moaning that humans do, just some heavy breathing for a while. Androids can and do simulate breathing, and breathing is used in some models in place of internal fans to cool them off. Sex and domestic models are also designed to heat up during sexual acts, but again, why would a police model...? Well, it doesn't really matter. The only sound Connor makes aside from that is Markus's name, in a voice that breaks on the second syllable. His head is back and his lips are parted. Markus hasn't moved his hands from Connor's waist, just once in a while pulling him deeper. 

He must do something with his tongue, because it gets a genuine gasp out of Connor and his legs buckle a little. Markus pulls back, reaching his arms up higher like he's trying to hold him up.

“I need a minute,” Connor says. 

Markus lays his head against Connor's hip, rubbing his cheek against the denim of his pants and says, “I'll bet you do.” 

“Sometimes it's too good,” Connor says. “I get overwhelmed.”

“I like overwhelming you,” Markus tells him. “But I'll play nice.”

“Okay...” Connor takes a few breaths. “Okay, we can...”

“Hey, there's an old couch over by the costumes. Want to take this over there?”

“Yes; I would prefer that.”

Markus rises smoothly to his feet and takes Connor's hand, leading him to a tattered, red velvet sofa that looks to be about fifty years old. He picks the cushions up and checks under them while Connor starts hurrying to unbutton his shirt. 

“No mice,” Markus says, putting the cushions back. Then: “Hey, hey. That's my job. I haven't undressed you in weeks, don't deprive me.”

“Then I claim the same right,” Connor says. His pants are still undone, and Markus comes closer to shuffle them off of him, while Connor pushes the coat from Markus's shoulders. 

Markus lays the coat along the sofa before nudging Connor to lie down on it, murmuring something about not getting dusty.

“But your coat,” Connor protests, and Markus says, “It's just a coat,” before undoing the buttons of Connor's shirt and splaying it out. 

He doesn't waste any more time before going back down and pulling Connor's cock back into his mouth, and this time Connor arches, hooking his legs around Markus's shoulders. It's a stretch: Markus really is as broad as he looks with the coat on.

“This...” Connor tries to say, before his voice breaks off again. He raises one hand to his mouth and bites his knuckles. “This isn't going to take long,” he finally manages to say.

Markus hums in apparent approval, and then his hand disappears beneath where Connor's legs are straining around his shoulders. 

She can't see much, but she picks up the way his forearm flexes and it's obvious what he's doing with his fingers, because a hoarse cry finally breaks free from Connor's vocal modulator... and that's eerie because that's the only way to describe it; it's too broken and staticky to be a human voice. 

“Oh, _oh_ , Markus,” he says, when his voice comes back, and he's shaking a little, legs falling open as Markus pulls off of him, both hands visible again as he crosses his arms over Connor's stomach and rests his chin on them. He looks up at him, waiting.

Finally, after a few minutes, Connor looks down at him, Markus lifts his eyebrows, looking a little smug and self satisfied. 

“I thought you wanted it to last longer this time?” Connor pouts. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Markus says, grinning. “And I know you can override your refractory period.”

“I know, but... Ah, I still need a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Markus says, smiling serenely even though his hips are writhing against the sofa. 

Connor regards him calmly for a few seconds, then tugs on his shoulders, saying “get up here.” 

Markus slithers up between his legs, and they lay like that for a while, grinding and making out.

It's honestly more than she can bear to watch.

** ** **  
April 16th 2040

 

**DEVIANT LEADER ON HIS KNEES**

**A shocking new sex tape, released this morning and already distributed widely throughout the internet, allegedly shows the leader of Jericho, Markus, in various sex acts with his “bodyguard,” a police model RK800 known as Connor, who also works for Detroit Police.**

_Comments:_

_ToniTonyTone: Oh fucksake. This is what's known as a blowjob, everyone get over it._

_sAssMaster: “Deviant” now has a whole new meaning thanks for that visual guys_

_RandyForRobots: Am I the only one here who thinks it was totally wrong of the news to release this recording? Or have we reached a point in our society where you can just plaster videos of couples having sex everywhere? Glad I'm not famous. Which is not to say I'm not watching it right now._

_MaryQueenOfThots: Let's be honest, who wouldn't get on their knees for Connor?_

_MOTC: Let's be clear on exactly one thing here: The RK models were literally made for each other.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> piano sex and wire play :)

April 16th 2040

 

 

So far he's answered one quick call from North, telling her that he and Connor were at the DPD and they were okay, and to tell everyone not to worry.

But Markus is worried. Not so much about the fallout, (fuck, there is going to be such a fallout,) but about Connor, who's sitting at Fowler's desk staring into the middle distance with that slight frown of his, all his happiness from the night before just wrecked. Because he thinks this is his fault.

Really it's kind of Markus's fault, because he'd been getting on Connor's case so much about being paranoid, telling him to ease up a little. Even so, Markus wants to straight up murder whoever it was that put that look on Connor's face.

The next call is the one he's been really dreading: Carl.

“Hang on,” he says to Connor, “I have to take this.”

Connor just gives him a spaced-out nod.

The first thing Carl says is, “You okay, Markus?”

“Yeah,” Markus says. Then: “No.”

“Yeah,” Carl says, “well, I didn't expect you to be. The first thing you need to hear from me is that none of this is your fault. Nor is it Connor's. It's the fault of whatever scum violated your privacy.”

“I know.” A shamed murmur is all he can manage.

“The second thing you need to hear is that I would never disrespect your privacy by allowing even a single image of that to pass my field of vision. So if you're worried about me seeing anything that would upset you, put that worry to bed.”

“Thank you.” A little better, maybe.

“The third thing I'm going to tell you is...ha...Maybe I shouldn't. Oh well. There's a tape of me somewhere out there too. Probably pretty similar.”

“ _What?_ ” It comes out so sharply that Connor looks up at him, questioning. Markus shakes his head: _Nothing, it's okay._

“The 90s were wild times, Markus. I was pretty wasted. My partner and I weren't aware we were being recorded, but it happened all the same. It was a different time, the 90s, and I wanted to be the cool, laid back artist, you know? So we played it off like it wasn't a big deal. We even got a copy and showed it to our friends at a party. I think we felt like if we laughed it off and pretended it wasn't so bad, maybe it wouldn't be.”

“Wow,” is all Markus can manage.

“But it destroyed us,” Carl says. “I think if we'd taken it as seriously as it felt, we might have been able to deal with it. If we'd admitted that it was a criminal act and that we'd felt violated by it, we could have gotten through it.”

“I'm sorry,” Markus says. 

“Oh well,” Carl says. “Who knows what would have happened? Maybe I wouldn't have met Leo's mother. Maybe I wouldn't have had the accident. And maybe I wouldn't have met you, son. I can't be anything but thankful.”

Markus feels tears spring to his eyes. For the first time in a very long time, he doesn't know what to say.

“What I'm saying to you, Markus, is that I don't want you and Connor to let this fuck up a good thing. Just... make sure you handle it together, okay?”

“I...we will.” He glances over to Connor, who is still looking at him with a question in his eyes. “Thank you. For telling me all of that.”

“I love you, son.”

Markus chokes on the words. “Love you too.”

When Carl disconnects, Markus goes to Connor and sits on the desk in front of him, taking his hands.

“Hey,” he says. “This is a big deal. But it's going to be all right. All right?”

“Yes,” Connor says. He takes a second to process that; to let Markus convince him, like he always does, for better or for worse. Then, with more conviction he says, “Yes. Of course. It's a big deal, but it's nothing we can't handle.”

 

 

** ** **  
April 15th 2040

 

Recon 7 can't take much more of this, honestly. It was bad enough that he had to watch them do... do _that_. But now the 200 is wandering around in his pants and open shirt, and the 800 is wearing literally nothing but the 200's long coat, and the 200 is yammering excitedly because he found a piano backstage.

“Do you want to have sex on it?” the 800 asks, from where he's-- _it_ \--is looking through a rack of theater costumes. 

“What? No, for godsake,” the 200 says. Then he takes a second to think about it and says, “I don't mean _no_ , because _yes,_ but it wasn't my first thought.”

“Oh?” The 800 pulls something off the costume rack, fucking _licks it_ , then puts it back.

“My interest in pianos does extend to their traditional purposes, you know,” the 200 says.

The 800 keeps wandering around, picking things up, turning them over in his hands, and putting them back. At one point he finds a prop crown and sets it on his head. 

The 200 picks a few keys of the piano, which sounds like it's broken or missing some notes or something. And then it starts singing. It's standing at the piano singing a fucking Neil Diamond song, but the weirdest part is, it's using its own voice and style. Androids can easily just play music through their speaker or whatever. That's what the godawful There 4 U “band” does. (Recon 7 doesn't even like calling them a band. It's not even music.) This android sings, though, putting his own spin on it. “You are the sun, I am the moon, you are the words, I am the tune, play me...”

The 800 stops poking around and stands there acting like it's listening; its LED going from blue to yellow, probably trying to download data on the song or something.

Then the RK200 plays something by Elton John on the piano, and then sings a new one by fucking Beyonce. Whatever pleasantness exists in the android's voice just incites more rage in Recon 7. These androids earned none of what they have. They never took music lessons; they were just programmed to be good at shit. They were programmed at the beginning to imitate soulfulness. 

So why do they bother to do things like this when it's just two of them? 

Finally the RK200 seems to notice that the other android is too quiet. It stops singing and looks over to the wing, where the 800 is just standing there staring (the front of the long coat just... totally open, the crown still sitting stupidly on its head.)

They stare at each other for a few seconds like they just discovered the other was still there.

“My crown is in my heart, not on my head,” the 200 says. 

The 800's LED goes yellow for a second before it answers, “My crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.”

“That's some true shit,” the 200 says, grinning.

The RK800 crosses the stage to the other wing and all but tackles the RK200 onto the piano.

Fuck, not again.

** ** **

 

 

April 16th 2040

 

**FANDROIDS FORUM**

**\--Alleged Sex Tape Chat--**

ArtThot39: Umm guys, you should probably remove “alleged” from the name of this chat, js.

DeviantAsTheyCome: I'm sorry was that Beyonce I just fucking heard Markus sing? Because... that's brilliant.

KillingMeOftly: Yes but also BENNY AND THE JETS? Obviously they know ~~the classics~~ but that is just hilarious

ArtThot39: Oh...my... Did that just happen. Is there gonna be sex on a piano because I don't think I can handle that. 

ArtThot39: Okay. I am now officially on life support.

MrsKamski: How is this real life. How is this real life right now.

** ** **

 

April 15th 2040

 

That piano is taking some abuse; some keys were already missing, now it's jangling all sorts of notes as Connor backs Markus up against it. They're kissing as Connor starts pulling at Markus's pants and shirt. The kissing is kind of mad-passionate-crazy, but Connor's hands are slow, gentle, and precise at the buttons of Markus's shirt – like he's being careful.

Andrea sees why once the shirt is gone. Markus is just... he's _covered_ in scars. She had known in theory that he would be; they had talked enough about his history in the forums, and knew from what little he'd said in past interviews that he'd been shot by police and left in a mass grave for androids. And she'd seen on TV the footage of the androids' first freedom march, she and the world had witnessed him being shot then, too.

But it looks so much more savage when she sees it, her eyes grow hot with tears. There are places where his skin just doesn't cover anymore, and when Connor gets to his pants, kneeling down to gently pull them off, she sees that his legs are scarred, too. Connor gently rubs his hands up and down Markus's calves, making him take a shuddery breath, before he rises up to his feet again. He skims his fingertips down the front of Markus's chest, over the gashes and divots – Markus allows this without flinching or looking away.

“ _The fire that breaks from thee then, a billion times-told lovelier, more dangerous, oh my chevalier,”_ Connor says.

She'll definitely keyword search that later, probably so will everyone in the forums to see what he's quoting and theorize about what it means to them... but no, she won't be going back there; not after this. Not after she betrays them. Her friends there might never know. But she will.

Markus gives Connor a shaky laugh and adjusts the prop crown he's still wearing, then he turns around and leans over the smooth surface of the piano, his hands leaving prints in the dust. Connor has to take off the crown and set it aside before he lowers his mouth to the back of Markus's neck.

Markus makes the skin retract from his entire back. She's seen so much of android anatomy, so it's not like it's the first time seeing what their spines look like, but it's still a little shocking – the lack of actual vertebrae, and the way wires weave in and out of blue plates, sparking.

Connor is still wearing Markus's long coat so it's impossible to see any details, but it's pretty obvious by the way that he pushes forward and Markus cries out his name. His fingers start detailing the grooves and divots along Markus's spine, and Markus is panting against the top of the piano.

It's still Recon 7's hacked feed that Andrea is watching, and that shithead must have done something to one of their cameras, because the angle shifts to the front in a quick motion.

Connor stops. Looks up. His pupils constrict to points, and now his eyes are dark and dangerous, narrowed and focused, like he heard something. His head tilts to the side. 

Andrea can almost feel Recon 7 holding their breath, wherever in the world they are; she holds hers, too. But if there ever was a time to put a stop to this, it's now. She hopes for it to end. She'll be in deep shit, she'll never get her dog back if she doesn't deliver. But she's still rooting for Connor to trust his instinct and catch them. Maybe he can catch them in time to help her, too? God, if only she could send a message. But there's no way.

“Connor.” Markus's voice is sharp now; his focus is back, he's not going to pieces anymore, like he was able to simply shut it off.

Connor's eyes soften and he murmurs a quiet apology before grabbing Markus by the hip and pushing forward again. He ducks his head and puts his tongue into the port at the back of Markus's neck. Markus's head falls forward onto his arms and he practically wails. Connor's fingers resume their mapping of the wires along his spine, and tracing the damaged parts of his frame.

“We're nowhere near done yet,” Connor says in his ear.

“Yes, yes,” Markus says. “We have time, I-- yes, anything, _anything._ ”

_Please_ , Andrea thinks. Please don't let this ruin them.

** ** ** **

**NEW DETAILS OF SHOCKING SEX TAPE EMERGE**

**Police have found the location where android leader Markus and his bodyguard, police model and DPD employee “Connor” were secretly recorded having sex last night. Detectives are looking for leads on who is responsible for recording them. Authorities have not yet confirmed that the recording is real.**

_Comments:_

_BadRobot: Deep Fake my ass! Even if it was, that would still be a crime! WHEN are we going to leave androids alone, I mean if we as humans are not going to help them, do we have to keep fucking them over??_

_KamskisManBun: Of course it's real. With any other androids you could say that they just got some doubles because most of them look alike. But the RK models are prototypes and both are one of a kind. Of course it's them but so what. Androids can fall in love. So what. Leave them alone._

_HumanChloe: FUCK! If your man doesn't fuck like Connor, what even is the point of your man!_

_Alex: OK thats not fair. No-one can live up to that. This is literally the problem I have with androids & I think it's the problem everyone has with them like...... we can't be as good as them at ANYTHING. Thier better @ sports music teaching working at jobs we use to do, we always knew there better @ sex because of eden clubs. We cant compete with androids so why don't we just give up??? Sad. What I am saying is when Eden was open, men were finally happy and getting what we wanted. And that is BECAUSE OF THE FACT that we can't live up to android perfection so men were going the one place it didn't matter......eden _

_reply to this_

_PenIsMightier: Okay dipshit, but you do realize that women went to Eden Club also? That there were male android models for women to fuck?_

_Reply to this_

_Alex: Thank you for proving my point tho. Women were going to eden club for sex because those male Traci's were perfect in a way that human men could never be. that's what i'm saying it just not fair_

_reply to this_

_PenIsMightier: Holy shit. You really can't argue with stupid. I'm going to finish watching the video in peace, thank you very much, and I hope you dream about it tonight. Toodles. ^_^  
_

 

** ** ** **

 

 

April 16th 2040

 

By now there's a crowd of humans outside the glass doors of the DPD, and thirteen drones flying overhead. A strange, creeping apprehension winds up Connor's spine, making him want to stay in Fowler's office with Markus until they all leave. He's never felt this way before. Or – maybe he has. Maybe even lately—four times, five if you counted the slightly nervous feeling he couldn't shake the night before—he's been experiencing sensations he can't quantify. Not exactly seeing movements in his peripheral vision, but expecting to see them. It's bothersome.

Markus is on the phone again, this time with President Warren. His pacing is giving Connor another sensation he can't quite place. Irritation? Nervous energy? He digs his quarter out of his pocket and starts rolling it. What is she saying to Markus? He could probably listen in. But Markus will tell him once he's off the phone. Probably.

No, of course he will.

How could he have let this happen? He knew. He _knew_. There was a moment last night when he heard a two-point-five second sinusoidal tone at 9Hz. And he had ignored it in favor of lavishing attention on Markus.

“Okay,” Markus says into the phone. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

That doesn't sound too bad, at least. “It went well?” 

Markus runs his hands over the short hair on his head. “Sort of. She's going to formally condemn it. There will be consequences if the parties involved are found, but she can't spare a lot of resources to find out who did it.”

“I'll find out.”

Markus turns to him, again with that look in his eyes: a warning. 

Connor holds up his hand before Markus can say his name in that tone. “I let this happen, so I should be the one to fix it.”

“Okay,” Markus says. “Okay, back up. This is _solely_ the fault of whoever has been following us around. Connor, hear me out. Of course we're going to find out who did this. I don't think they were expecting to see what they saw last night; they were probably looking for something incriminating or compromising, but there was nothing, so they just went with what they thought would be scandalous. Humans can be prudish over things like this. But that doesn't change the fact that whoever did this probably had-- _has_ \--something more dangerous planned. You're the head of Jericho's security, and my personal security, and you're still the best there is, so I won't ask you to step back, okay? But I'm not going to let you blame yourself. I'm not.” He gets to his knees in front of the chair that Connor's sitting in, and takes his hands. “I'm _not_. And it's not going to stop us from being who we are. We're fighting for the rights of androids to be free and happy, and that includes us.”

Connor opens his mouth to speak, finds he doesn't know what to say—it was probably going to be a denial or a logical argument—and quickly closes it again. Markus waits patiently for him.

“It isn't easy,” Connor says. “I mean, to...to _relax_ or whatever it is I need to do. It's not in my programming, first of all. Second, recent events have... have--” He tries to gesture with his hand, but Markus is still holding it.

“Yeah, it's taken a toll on all of us. Just don't give up, okay? I need you. _You_ , not a bodyguard or cop. People are going to forget about this when the next big thing comes along. Just trust me, okay?”

 

** ** **

**FANDROID FORUM**

**\--sex tape chat--**

REDLED: HOLY SHIT. I'm seeing something I'll never forget for as long as I live. I'm gifing every second of this. My life now has meaning. Play this at my funeral, I'm serious.

MrsKamski: This video should be required viewing in sex ed lmaoooooo. Fucking 101.

ArtThot39: 101? No way, this is next level fucking. This is like the calculus of fucking. The quantum physics of fucking. Only geniuses can understand it. This is mastery. Where is Andy? She needs to see this, so she can die with the rest of us. ANDREA. WHERE U AT GIRL

ReinOnMe: This turned my software into hardware.

ArtThot39: Okay, but real quick. Since I have no life and I can't stop thinking about this. There was a TED talk a while back about androids and the mechanism by which they could feel and I remember something about... in the end it doesn't matter. If something tells you that it can feel, IT DOES. That's 101 philosophy, speaking of 101 levels. Androids don't have like, seratonin or whatever, or any of the chemicals that make humans feel fear or love (the two driving forces of life right? When you think about it?) So if they don't have those things and they still _feel_ those things (see point A, if they say they do, then they do. Otherwise WHY BOTHER??) then there must be something at play here. The TT I watched was saying that we need to take another look at spirituality because of androids being alive.

MrsKamski: Oh wow cool. Btw Connor's fingers stroking the wires in Markus' back has me DEAD you guys.

ReinOnMe: lol true true. Oh, I was gonna search for whatever it was that Connor was quoting, what was it, anyone know?

ArtThot39: It was from a poem called The Windhover. Ummm you guys... it's about jesus O_O Just saying.

ReinOnMe: So... is Connor saying... ????

ArtThot39: I mean I don't know? Maybe but maybe not, maybe he was just referencing the way suffering can make you stronger or more beautiful or something. There are also many many interpretations of Jesus himself and not all of them are *air quotes* divine.

MrsKamski: Connor's cock is devine

ArtThot39: lol yes on that I believe we all agree!

 

 

** ** **


	5. Chapter 5

April 15th 2040

*

Andrea hasn't moved from her chair. It's only twenty minutes later and they're at it again, back on the sofa. 

Connor still has Markus's long coat on, but he's on his back and now Markus is on top, with Connor's long legs wrapped around his waist and the whole sofa is moving beneath them. Markus is braced on one hand, the other in Connor's hair, and he's murmuring things into Connor's ear that the mic picks up easily, filth and encouragement between long, hungry kissing, and now Connor is getting loud, like he wasn't before. He's got his hands on Markus's sides, running them up and down his ribs and hips. Markus tells him he's beautiful like this, says that he thinks about fucking Connor all the time. The hand he's not bracing on wanders down Connors chest, between them, but Connor pushes it away.

“No, it's okay, I can... like this.” He retracts the skin from his own hand. “I can come like this.” 

Markus gets this expression, like awe or gratitude or something... how could anyone see a thing like this and think that androids aren't alive? He retracts the skin from his hand and links his fingers with Connor's, leaning down on his elbow to get closer. It gets... pretty intense once they're connected like that, Markus is moving like he's about to come. Connor's breath hitches (a programmed response, she knows, but still real,) and his hand clenches on Markus's back. His head tilts back and he goes absolutely still... and then absolutely limp. His LED goes from blue to yellow.

Is she seeing this right? Because that looks like a soft reset.

Markus slows his movements and looks down at him, a pleased little half-smirk on his lips as lets go of Connor's hand and he cradles the back of his head. “Oh, Connor,” he says, his voice fond. “I'll wait.”

It takes a minute, but Connor's LED goes back to blue and he opens his eyes. When he sees that Markus is still fucking him, he arches his back with long, deeply satisfied groan. “Markus,” he says, exasperated, but smiling up at him now. “God, don't you ever stop?”

“Nope,” Markus says, smug. Then he bends his head and licks around the outline of Connor's thirium pump regulator. 

“Oh, fuck,” Connor pants.

“Can you come one more time?” Markus asks. He pulls his knees up higher under Connor's thighs, getting a gritted-teeth groan out of him. “Because I think you can.”

“I don't know,” Connor admits, his voice drawn-out and glitching.

Markus laughs, a low, sexy chuckle, and kisses him chastely on the mouth. “I believe in you, Connor.”

** ** **

For once, Recon 7 agrees with the RK800: don't they ever fucking stop? That stuff on the piano was a lot to have to sit through, but now they're just rubbing it in. The RK200 just almost factory-reset the 800 and they are _still fucking_ , it's ridiculous. Finally, after another few minutes that seem like another few hours, Markus puts his head on Connor's shoulder and goes still. He thinks maybe it's finally over, but they don't even get up to get dressed after that. The two of them just keep laying there, making out.

Then the RK200 says, “Happy anniversary. Better than flowers?”

“Far better,” the 800 says. “Though I do like flowers.”

Markus laughs. “We'll get some flowers, too.”

_Ugh_. He is entirely done with this shit. It was gruesome—no, disgusting, seeing those scars all over Markus. No, not Markus, for fuck sake, the _RK200._ If androids could actually feel pain, instead of just having their programs glitch out or whatever, he might have felt a little bad for him. But that's ridiculous and he knows it even as the thought goes through his head. It's like apologizing to your phone after you drop it or something.

He was sure, earlier, that he'd been made, the way Connor looked up for a second like he knew. Recon 7 decided to be more cautious after that; move the cameras around more slowly to keep them quieter.

This is nowhere near what he'd expected to get on them, and not anything like what he wanted. But all he was really asked to do was get something dirty on them. Not even incriminating, (although that would be better,) but just scandalous. He can edit it anyway.

Enough people out there hate androids for everything they are. This is exactly the kind of thing that will shock and scandalize them, that will disgust them. No one will ever look at Markus the same way again. Hard to take someone seriously after you saw them bent over a piano.

He's had enough. And he's got enough. He just needs to edit it down a little, cut some keywords out and add a few in—he's got enough of Markus's speeches saved so that he can make the things they said sound more sinister—and then he's ready to release it. The whole thing will take maybe half an hour.

He keeps the cameras running, but pulls the file. It's big, mega, there's hours of footage, but Recon 7 works fast.

He just finishes pulling the entire thing, when he gets a notification.

Public upload from Recon 13. The same exact size of the file he just pulled. 

Fuck. 

When he gets to Recon 13—and he will—he's going to fucking kill her.

_Fuck._

** ** **

**”HAPPY ANNIVERSARY”**

**Rebel leader Markus Manfred and partner Connor share an intimate date night on their one year anniversary, IN AN ILLICIT SEX TAPE THAT SHOCKS THE WORLD.**

 

_Comments:_

_MyPenIsMighty: Oh now he's “Markus Manfred” like he has an actual identity? Why? Because you saw him naked?_

_CarlsPaintbrush: Those scars, though. :( can't lie, even though I did watch the whole thing, (and I'm not sorry) i'm glad they have each other...._

_HumansFirst: Whatever, you all are too stupid to talk to. What does this change? Nothing. Robots could ALWAYS FUCK. They are programmed to fuck. FOR US. Not for themselves or each other. This is just another glitch. There programs are malfunctioning, it can happen to any computer. Porn bots trying to sell you shit. Old as time. Bunch of idiots._

** ** **

 

**FANDROID FORUMS**

**\--Sex Tape Chat--**

TurnedGayOverThis: FUCK. Fuck me if that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever seen??

IAmHuman: Yes. It was “hot.” But it was more than that. Look I know a lot of you don't trust me, I know some of you think I'm a bitch or a troll and maybe I was. I admit I came into this forum because I didn't really believe that androids could have human feelings and emotions. That they couldn't feel pain or loss or probably even love. I used to laugh at it but a few months ago I started to see a different side. This? This recording? This tells me all I need to know. Androids feel. They fall in love. If they can feel sexual pleasure which obvs they can....... then they must be able to feel pain too, right? Isn't that how it works? I'm sorry it took something like this to convince me but here I stand, a changed woman. I'm convinced.

ArtThot39: It's nice that you're “convinced” now or whatever, but it still says a lot that it took someone invading their sacred moments for you to buy it. When anything, be it a human or animal or android, fucking _tells you_ that they can feel, you have to believe them. Like... I don't know how anyone didn't believe that. They speak a human language and they said so. That's literally all it takes.

IAmHuman: I know. I'm sorry.

 

** ** **  
April 16th 2040

 

When Hank comes back in, it's without Fowler this time. Markus knows that they can't just stay in here all day; cops have other things to focus on, murders and robberies, not pointless scandals that shouldn't even be a big deal. It's time to go out there and face this.

“We can, uhh, give you an escort to Jericho,” Hank says. “Get you past everyone out there without them bothering you.”

Markus comes really close to taking him up on that. But where will that lead? Then they'll be at Jericho, in the same exact position they are now: hiding from this.

He turns to Connor. “I feel like I need to go out there and say something. Only, for once, I guess, I don't know what to say.” Connor is good with things like this when he's not freaking out. He's helped Markus think of ways to phrase things in a lot of his speeches; it's part of his negotiator program. Markus sometimes has to tailor those remarks for a softer negotiation. Though the stakes are high, they're not exactly in a hostage situation and he doesn't always need to be quite as immediate as Connor suggests.

“Well,” Connor says. “If we have to—and I guess we do—you can begin with something less dire. Humans like to see a human side.”

“Pretty sure they've already seen enough of that,” Markus says.

“Pretty sure they haven't,” Connor argues. “What's the one criticism that gets leveled at you most often?”

“Uhh. I'm too ambitious and arrogant?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “But you're not. Ambitious – yes, but that's not a flaw, they only see it as one. You're not arrogant. Humans see you trying to gain rights for us, and they feel threatened, and that's the only label they can come up with. You're serious in public; your detractors see you as too rigid. As of today, they've seen something more...”

Connor struggles for a word he can say in front of Hank.

If Markus comes across as arrogant and rigid, Connor sure as hell comes across as clinical and detached, _shit_ , he asked for advice and now he's getting defensive.

“What Connor means,” Hank says, “is be yourself out there.”

“Yes,” Connor says. “I mean... what I'm saying is, you're funny, and charming. I don't mean that you should go up there and entertain them, but – how to put this? They saw a side of you that they can now consider human in a way that maybe they couldn't before. They'll always see us like that now; we'll never be able to turn that off. So maybe... since we can't change that, maybe we should just go with it.”

He sounds unsure. “You'll be with me out there, right?” Markus asks.

“Yes, of course.”

“Not as my security detail. As my partner.”

There's a little hesitation before Connor says “Yes” again. He's not going to entirely give up his position as bodyguard, but it's enough, for now, that he's agreed to be more to Markus, in full view of the public. 

Hank gives them a little nod before leaving, then waits outside the door, letting them have just this one more minute of privacy before the shit hits the fan. 

Connor reaches out to him, skin already faded from his hand, and Markus connects with him. 

>>You are the words, I am the tune,  
Markus sings through their connection. 

Connor gives him his crooked little smile and they head out, hand in hand.

Of course there's no getting past Gavin Reed, a guy whom Markus would dearly love to punch right in the face. He thinks it's weird how this guy never actually looks at him. He will talk shit to Connor all day, but can't look Markus in the eye. 

And naturally Reed's not going to let this opportunity go; he's already smirking like an ass, making sure they're within earshot when he says, “Seriously? They're sending someone over there to investigate this bullshit? I hope whatever poor bastard gets this case brings a shit ton of gloves. Place is contaminated now, they should just burn it down.”

Connor stops and turns, and Markus thinks, finally, he's going to let Reed have it, and he should probably stop him, but he's nowhere near as fast as Connor, so oh well.

But instead, Connor cheerfully informs him, “Actually, android ejaculate is sterile and nonpathogenic. That just means it can't harm you or give you any diseases. I know you struggle with vocabulary.”

Reed sneers at him and says, “Whatever, robo-twink.”

Markus is still waiting for that punch, but Connor does one better: he drops that little wink of his, and continues on his way. Markus is still laughing when they reach the glass doors, hand in hand.

And there they all are, humans, spectators, press, drones - the murmur rising to a collective shout as Markus steps outside with Connor. The questions come fast, but one rises above all the rest: _Are you all right?_

Interesting development, there. 

Mics are shoved into his face, but he's used to that by now. “Uhh, yes, thank you,” he says. “We're unharmed, but rattled. This has been going on for a long time.”

Someone shouts out, “Are you making a statement?”

“Uhh...” 

Connor gives his hand a squeeze.

“I don't have anything prepared, obviously,” Markus says. “But, umm.”

They all go quiet, waiting. He's led his people through a peaceful revolution, and _this_ is where he freezes? Shit.

_You're funny and charming,_ Connor had told him. He can do this.

“I guess... Well, first I should express my relief that no one took a video of me stealing anyone's job.”

This gets a ridiculous amount of uproarious laughter. He scans the crowd. They're excited, but also a little nervous, like they feel awkward facing him, too. Markus waits for them to quiet down before continuing, lowering his voice a little. 

“So, um, last night was just supposed to be a sort of anniversary celebration.” A smattering of applause here, which seems gross, but he has to accept it. “And, umm...” God, he can't stop using hesitation sounds; he's saying 'um' fifty-two percent more than he normally does during a long, unplanned speech. He needs to stop. “One criticism that has often been leveled at me is that I can appear too rigid in public, or I don't smile enough. The truth is, a lot of the time I just have a lot on my mind and it's hard to let that go. When I'm around my family and loved ones—Carl, my confidants at Jericho, Hank, and of course Connor—I'm obviously a different person in private, just like anyone else. That's where I feel most at ease, I guess. Last night, someone tried to take that away from us. And it made me realize, I'm not going to let them. What we're struggling for—all of us—is the right to live and be happy.”

More applause. Good.

“I'm not going to apologize for my heart,” he says. “It might seem fair to say that we should have...have... had our anniversary in the privacy of our own home, but, like most androids, we don't have a home of our own. Connor and I are lucky to live with two wonderful humans, which is more than most androids can say at this time, but, well, I'm sure you all can relate to how awkward that would have been.”

He doesn't enjoy their laughter, but it's enough to know that they're laughing _with_ him. Many humans have had the experience of sneaking out of their parents house to get laid.

“Not to mention that, even if we had broken social protocol in the homes of the humans we live with, whoever did this would have followed us there, too. Carl Manfred's house was bugged last month. The truth is, we've been dodging these attempts for a long time. It has to stop. We can't live like this.”

No applause there, just some murmuring.

“I'm going to simply ask that you don't watch the recording. I realize how unrealistic that is, but I feel I have to ask anyway. We are going to find out who did this, by the way. And, um... Yeah, that's all. I can't imagine that any of you have any questions right now that I could answer for you. Thank you.”

But of course they have questions. They're still shouting his name, and honestly he's so done already. He doesn't even want to know what they're going to come up with.

He still has Connor's hand in his, and Hank steps in front of them, both hands up in a “get back” gesture toward the crowd. There are squad cars they can take, but instead, Hank is leading them to his car; that old piece of junk that he loves so much. Markus is always so surprised that it still runs.

They almost make it to the car. Almost. Connor is opening the back door when some woman starts calling his name. She doesn't sound curious or excited or even like a reporter. She's trying to keep her voice down but there's an edge of hysteria in it.

Hank reacts like a cop: cautious, his hand reaching for his gun but not ready to draw. Connor straightens up and scans. She's pushing through the crowd, even as some other cops try to hold her back. She's 5'7” with dishwater blond hair and brown eyes. He can't make out the rest of her face, because she's wearing a hat and trying to keep herself covered.

“Connor!” she says, as she pushes closer. “Please, you have to help me. They took my dog.”

** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Connor Blank 2040 :)
> 
> Shout out to my rk1k thots <3


	6. Chapter 6

April 16th 2040

 

Connor had hustled her out of the crowd, saying “take me to your car.” In the chaos, she'd heard Hank and Markus telling him to wait, that this could be a trap. But Connor had asked Hank to please take Markus back to Jericho, assuring them that he could handle this – meaning her. 

So she'd kept her face covered and led him through the crowd to where she'd parked her shitty rental a few blocks away. The press didn't even bother them, choosing instead to keep hounding Markus, probably all the way back to Jericho, she guessed. That sucked, but it gave her the security she needed, anyway.

Connor had gripped her tightly by the arm all the way there, and he hadn't said a word until she got behind the wheel and he'd gotten in the passenger seat. Then:

“Okay, tell me everything.”

Andrea had started her car and burst into humiliating tears. It had been hard for her to get the words out, but Connor had listened quietly, and patiently.

Now, as she's finishing as much of the story as she can, he asks her, “Is Casey an Irish Setter?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “How do you know?”

“Some of her hairs are on your dash. You take her with you in your car?”

“She has arthritis,” Andrea says. This brings a fresh bout of tears. “I take her on hikes because it seems to help her stay in shape. She needs her medicine or her legs will start to really hurt. It's been weeks.”

Connor's LED flashes yellow. 

“I'm-- I'm so sorry,” she says. “I can't even tell you how sorry.”

He doesn't answer, instead just blinks his eyes slowly, like she's not even there. Then, after a few minutes he says, “Did they come for her at night?”

She nods. They're almost to her house now. It's little more than a single trailer near the woods. Her ex had taken everything. 

When they pull up, Connor tells her, “Just do everything as you normally would, and pretend I'm not here.”

Which is insane, _Connor_ is walking into her shitfire of a house. Her computers are still running, with all the live feeds going on, on top of it all. She'd run out of here as soon as she'd sent the file. She hurries to turn them off.

“No, don't touch it,” he says. 

Connor is standing entirely too still in the center of what passes for her living room. His hands are at his sides, and only his eyes are moving. He must be scanning.

“In fact,” he says, “don't touch anything. Someone was here.”

It's like an ice pick in her stomach when he says that.

“They probably came looking for you. I doubt it was to pay you three million dollars, either.”

“Shit. Do you think they killed Casey?”

“I hope not,” he says, and she believes he's sincere. She knows all about Sumo; there are so many candids on the forum of him taking the St Bernard for long walks through the park. Sometimes Hank is with them, sometimes Markus.

“Why don't you just have a seat?” he says. “I'm going to look around, if that's all right.”

“Sure. Anything.” She sits on her sofa and pulls her knees up to her chest, trying to stay out of his way.

The first place he goes is her computer. He retracts the skin from his hand and places his palm flat against it. “Password?” he says.

Fuck. _Fuck._ “Exclamation point 41539 – rk1k – ampersand – freedom – exclamation point.”

He snorts at that and rolls his eyes, but at least he doesn't seem too bothered. A few seconds later he pulls his hand away and says, “They sent you an email along with the phone call; were you able to trace it?”

“No. That's how I knew they were serious.”

“I understand.”

He walks around some more, sometimes stopping and going still for a few moments, sometimes bending down to look at something on the floor. And once or twice she even sees him touch something and then lick his fingers. God, _legendary._ If the situation wasn't so utterly terrible, this would be the best day of her life.

He looks out the back door of the trailer, then comes back in quickly and says, “Are you expecting someone?”

“Shit, no. Fuck. That's got to be Wayne.”

“Your ex? Does he drive a pickup?”

“God damn it! I'll make him go away.”

“No.” Connor holds up a hand. “He probably doesn't know I'm here. Is there anywhere I can hide? I want to see how this plays out.”

“He's just my stupid ex.” Yes, the last time he'd threatened to come back with a gun, but she'd handled him. She doesn't want Connor to see this.

“Still,” he says. “If you don't mind?”

The truck's door slams outside.

“Okay. Get in the broom closet. Sorry, it's really small.”

“That's okay,” Connor says, “I used to sleep in a closet.”

He's gone before she can ask him what the fuck. 

The front door opens and in walks Wayne. The sight of him makes her stomach roil. How did she ever think he was attractive or interesting? He's greasy, with dark smudges under his eyes and dry lips. He hadn't always looked that bad, had he? 

“Fuck off,” she tells him. “How many times have I told you? I'll call the cops this time.” She grabs her cell. But she doesn't dial right away, because is that what Connor wants her to do? He could call the cops himself, just using the processor in his brain. Maybe that's what he's doing in there.

Wayne takes a few slow steps—he _ambles_ , god she hates that arrogant swagger—around her sofa, trailing his finger through the dust on the end table.

“You took something of mine.”

“What?” This douchebag. He took _everything_ from her. “You stole all of my money, you stole my ID, you stole my fucking car? _You live in my house, you piece of shit!_ Don't you dare say I took something from you!”

He looks at her like he finally just realized she was shouting at him, frowning like her anger is bothersome.

“You hacked me.”

“You hacked _me_ , you asshole.”

“That video,” he says. “It was mine. The three million. Mine. I'm not getting it now.”

Her ears buzz and her vision goes a little dark around the edges, like it's tunneling. 

“I told you, that night in email,” he goes on. “They took something from me, too. My offshore accounts, not just some fucking dog. I'm going to prison if I don't leave tonight.”

“Well... good,” she says. “You can't think you don't deserve it.”

That's when he pulls the gun, because of course he does. He's waved it around before, but this time, his eyes are flat – dead like a shark's. Whatever humanity was in him, it's gone for the moment. 

If she runs, he'll shoot. If she doesn't run, he'll still shoot. She can't outrun a bullet.

Instead of pulling the trigger, his eyes dart behind her, and the color drains from his face.

She turns to look over her shoulder.

_Connor_ , thank god; he might not be fast enough to get the gun from Wayne, but at least together they have a chance. She didn't even hear the door open, or the floorboards creak - she didn't hear him move. It's like he apparated behind her; he's so still. If Wayne's face had frightened her before with its absence of humanity, it's nothing to the feeling she gets looking at Connor. He's too still to be human; neither blinking nor simulating breathing. Beyond uncanny and well into sinister. 

“Put it down,” Connor says. His voice, known in public for being particularly gentle and polite, still sounds superficially gentle and polite. But also completely emotionless.

“I'm going to prison anyway,” Wayne says. His voice is shaking now, on the verge of tears.

“If I let you,” Connor says.

Wayne's knees go weak. But he doesn't drop the gun. “I know the law,” he says; his voice little more than a whine now. “You're not even a cop, you're still not supposed to... you're not allowed to kill humans, you can't...” 

Connor tilts his head to the side like he doesn't understand these words. “We can test that theory,” he says. “We can find out what I can and can't do, when no one is here to tell. When Markus isn't here to stop me.”

Andrea's choking on a sob now; she can't tell if he's serious or of this is some kind of program he's supposed to use. She thinks of the candids they've all collected of him: walking and playing fetch with Sumo in the park. Chatting on a bench with Hank Anderson. Eating thirium ice cream by the river with Markus. Whispering something to North and making her laugh. Wearing a fake crown, wearing Markus's iconic coat, making love with Markus in an abandoned theater. He'd always seemed so...

But he's not. He's not “sweet” or cute or a harmless puppy. He is cold and terrible, a machine.

“Or you can put the gun down,” Connor says, “and we can talk.”

Wayne drops the gun--more like it just falls out of his hand—and practically wails out a name:

“Richard Perkins!”

 

** ** **

**FANDROID FORUMS**

**\--Sex Tape Chat--**

ArtThot39: Guys. Casey. I hope she's all right. :( I swear to god I hope they are able to find her and round up EVERYONE involved. Look, I know I was super into watching that tape and so were we all. I mean life is weird. It hurt a lot of people but we still watched it. I'm not sorry, exactly? But I feel like I need to do something to help. Maybe we can get another fundraiser going for Jericho, or get a petition for a bill so that androids can't be turned away at hotels or trying to rent or buy. Something like that? 

MrsKamski: Poor Andy. I know we've all seen pics of Casey and I know how much she loves that dog. Fuck, I hope they find her.

ReinOnMe: So this Perkins dick, he's the guy who was trying to negotiate with Markus during the beginning of the revolution. I hope he is FIRED AS FUCK. 

ArtThot39: I just read actually that he will “retire” which I think is bullshit. I still think he has to pay. And they better get Casey back. Do you think she's still with Connor? If anyone can get to the bottom of this whole thing, it's him.

** ** **

 

April 16th 2040

Wayne Lee Ayler is in custody (if you count “handcuffed on the floor in urine soaked pants” as “in custody”) and Hank is on his way, hopefully with Officer Wilson. Connor likes Chris. He's got what humans term a “dry” sense of humor, which Connor is coming to understand and enjoy. It's a kind of wit that he can relate to. Chris knows how to keep a situation calm, too, and he's got a way of talking to people that comforts them. Connor still struggles with that, but then, so does Hank.

Andrea is sitting on the couch while Connor scans the room again. Her stress level is a little distracting. He's picking up where he left off, recording everything he saw on the first scan: not only dog hairs, but dirt tracked in from outside, shoe prints that aren't hers, a smear of dried blood by the back door, where someone cut themselves on the split wood of the frame. Perfect DNA sample. Outside the back of the trailer, those footprints had led to tire prints. It's not really that hard.

He crouches down in front of Andrea and she flinches. _Oh._ It's she's afraid of.

He feels disappointment. Her ex lover was dissociating before her eyes, in order to pull the trigger and kill her. Connor had used an intimidation program to stop him. Since deviating, he had deleted parts of those work programs that experience had taught him didn't work in all situations, and he had embellished the remaining ones, tailored them to unique situations, made them more streamlined and effective. It makes _him_ more effective. 

She had recorded and broadcast one of his most sacred moments, in her own interest, to save a loved-one. He understands her desperation and he's been nothing but understanding; instead of being angry, he had let it go, and then saved her life.

And now she's afraid of him. She sees him the way other humans do: a dangerous machine. He could explain to her what he just did, but why should he bother defending himself? Sometimes he really agrees with North. _Humans._ They never change.

He rises back to his feet and turns away. “I've got a lead on your dog,” he informs her.

She comes back to life at that. “You do?”

Oh, _now_ he's good again.

“Yes. I can find where they've taken her. I can't guarantee that she'll still be alive, or what condition she'll be in.” This does make him feel sad, and there's no hiding it. “I'm sorry.”

He turns away from her, but she grabs his hand and pulls it close to her face, resting her forehead on his knuckles. Her “thank you” is a shamed murmur.

“It's... it's okay.” His social programs always fail in situations like this. “It's just my job.”

“But you love dogs. Everyone knows that.”

Do they? Well, he supposes they do. There are photos of him out with Sumo, and he's told they're the most liked photos out there.

This gives him an idea. He can't get the image of Markus out of his head, from this morning, standing in front of all those cameras and mics. The way he had spoken so haltingly, in a quieter voice than usual. His overuse of hesitation sounds. Connor had felt infuriated on his behalf: how dare anyone make Markus sound unsure of himself. How dare anyone make him feel shamed. But there might be a way to fix this.

He pulls his hand away and puts in a call to Markus. When Markus answers, Connor taps the side of his ear and makes sure to greet him out loud. It's a little trick he learned from Markus: humans feel unnerved when androids connect wirelessly and stop speaking. Make it look like an actual phone call, like you're wearing a Bluetooth or some other device, and it seems more “normal” to them.

“Hello, Markus,” Connor speaks over the whimpering of Wayne Ayler in the corner. 

>>Everything all right?  
Markus replies in his head.

“Yes,” Connor says, “I've apprehended a suspect, and Hank is on his way. I've got a lead on Andrea's dog, but I think I need your help.”

>> And I have an idea,  
he adds, just between the two of them.  
>>Can you come? And can you bring...

He stops to consider. Who would look good? No: who needs better PR? He's really starting to think like Markus.

>>Bring North?  
He asks.

Then, out loud: “If you've got any medical supplies, can you bring them? And if so, do you have any canine treatment protocols?”

>>A few, but I can download some more,  
Markus says.  
>>Just the basics, though.

“All right. Then, if possible while you're on your way, if you could locate the nearest emergency veterinary clinic? This is just in case. Unfortunately we can't be sure we'll find Casey alive. But if we do, that would be helpful.”

>>And one more thing,  
Connor adds, silently.  
>>Alert the media.

>>Oh, it's like that?  
Markus laughs.  
>>You're getting good at this. They're already alerted. They haven't gotten off my back since this morning. 

“Thank you, Markus. I'm sending you the coordinates. Love you,” he adds without thinking. Then cringes, because he still feels awkward saying that around others.

>>I love you too,  
Markus answers, so easily, as he always does.

By the time he disconnects, Hank and Chris are at the door, ready to take in their suspect.

Connor sketches out the details to Hank and asks if he'll accompany him to the raid.

There isn't going to be a raid; he knows this. It's become harder for him to see Hank in danger, even though their job requires it. If Connor had expected to face down a team of hardened criminals, he might have just not told Hank about it, and sent him back to the station with Ayler. It's a problem; he's dealing with it.

“How you holding up?” Hank asks Connor, after stuffing Ayler into the squad car, as Chris does his comforting thing with Andrea.

“I'm fine,” he says; his stock reply. Hank gives him the raised eyebrow look. “I really am,” Connor assures him. “It hurts me that Markus was harmed by this. Having platonic loved-ones suddenly think of me as sexually active is awkward, but not insurmountable. I was designed with social modesty protocols, but with no sexual shame, due to the nature of my job, and the fact that my creators assumed I would have to run seduction programs or go undercover at some point. And since gaining sentience, I haven't developed a lot of shame. I'm... anxious, I guess, about having been compromised, but relieved that it wasn't more dangerous. Honestly, Hank, I'm fine.”

“You,” Hank says, pointing a finger in his face, “are way too direct.”

“That's just who I am,” Connor says.

This earn him a hair-ruffle and a pat on the back. He loves affection from Hank; it eases something in him that he hadn't even realized was there. Yes, now Hank has to come to terms with him as a sexual being, something he'd known in theory, but never had to deal with before. But Hank still feels fatherly, or nurturing towards him, and the tension in him unravels somewhat. He might feel awkward, but he's not ashamed of Connor.

“Let's move out,” Hank says.

They get Andrea—with some dog food, and medicine, ever hopeful—into Hanks' car, and head south, along the wooded road.

** ** **

Markus arrives with North shortly after Connor, Hank, Wilson, and Andrea. The press followed them, naturally, but now Chris Wilson is telling them to keep back, stay away until the scene is clear.

The “scene” is a desolate clearing in the woods with a small, abandoned concrete building. Markus scans it and checks the history. It used to be an outdoor movie theater, a “drive-in,” the search tells him, and this small building was its concession stand.

Connor probably also hears the whimpering of a dog from inside the building, but Markus doubts that anyone else does. The drones and the murmur from the crowd of reporters drowns most everything out. 

Connor approaches the door slowly, his gun drawn. Markus already knows that this is for show, because there are no humans in there. 

Andrea is standing alone, a few meters away from him. She's holding a bowl of dog food in both hands and trying to keep tears in check. She's in distress; her blood pressure is high and her heartbeat and respiration are elevated. She'll soon see her dog is alive, and Markus can't help feeling anything but sympathy for her. 

North comes up beside him and says, “What do you guys need me to do?” She's already done her hair the way Connor has asked her to: Blond, and shaved on one side. Connor had downloaded and read all of the posts about North, to find out how humans viewed her and what resonated with them the most. It turns out, they like thinking of North as someone “hardcore.” Younger women look up to her for being a survivor. She's “tough” and “cool” when she looks like this. North _hates_ dressing for the humans, she doesn't want to please them. But, at least this one time, she'd asked him how she could take the focus off of him and Connor.

Markus nods over to Andrea. “She likes you,” he says. “And the dog is alive, so, provided that her condition is not too dire, this should go pretty well. Maybe just, I don't know, lend me a hand when Connor brings the dog out?”

North still looks surprised when told that humans like her. 

In the distance, Connor pushes the door open, clears Hank and Chris to follow, and then they disappear into the darkness of the building. Markus doesn't hear any sounds of conflict. They all hear Casey barking from beyond the door, and Andrea lets out a shout, almost dropping her bowl of dog food.

Forty six seconds later, Connor comes rushing out, carrying the Irish Setter, yelling “Markus!” with alarm in his voice.

Markus runs to meet him, while North holds Andrea gently by the arm.

Connor hands the dog off to him, saying, “Someone is running off in the woods; I can still catch them.”

He probably doesn't have to: drones and DNA will identify them later at some point, and there aren't a lot of hiding places that Connor can't track. But – this is Connor, after all, and he's going to Chase The Bad Guy.

“Be careful,” Markus says, and Connor gives him a thumbs-up before racing off into the woods. Hank shouts an exasperated “Jesus Christ, Connor!” before going after him, at a much slower pace.

The dog in Markus's arms is whining and wiggling to get down, but it's clear that she can't walk, and Andrea is already making her way over, crying, still holding her bowl of dog food. Casey is severely dehydrated; the sensors in his fingers pick up her pulse (too fast) and the texture of her skin (too dry.) 

“North, can you get those fluids from the van?”

North nods and runs off, and Markus lays the dog on the ground. Reporters are crowding around him, practically on his back. 

“Is she okay?” Andrea asks. 

“I think so. She's a little hypothermic, dehydrated and undernourished. I think her legs are in a lot of pain.”

“I brought her meds...” Andrea says.

“Let's wait on that and get some fluid into her on the way to the vet. Okay?”

Andrea nods, and falls to her knees beside them, petting Casey. The dog licks her hands weakly. 

North returns with a bag of Lactated Ringers. Markus has never had to do sub-cu fluids before, but he researched on the way and it's surprisingly simple. Casey yipes a little when the needle goes into her back, but then settles down.

All in all, it goes pretty well. Markus is just lifting Casey into the van when Connor comes bursting out of the woods, with some unknown henchman in handcuffs. North is doing her own awkward version of comforting a human; she's practically poking at her with a stick, but Andrea is so relieved that it doesn't matter. Hank and Chris take the suspect from Connor and load him into the squad car.

Cameras are snapping, reporters are cheering, and crowds of civilians have also gathered in the clearing to watch this all go down.

Connor makes his way toward Markus, smiling a little the way he did the first time Markus saw him in that CyberLife suit of his, leading an army of freed androids. _We did it, Markus._

Maybe that was the moment he was Connor's, he's not sure. It had to take longer than that, didn't it? He wasn't _that_ easy.

“You okay?” Markus asks him.

“Me?”

Somehow, that's always Connor's reply to being asked if he's all right, or if he needs anything. Like he's still not used to being considered. Markus is working on that. He shoots him A Look.

“Oh,” Connor says. “Yes, I'm fine. How is Casey?”

“I think she'll be all right.”

North is in the van, waiting for him so they can get the dog to the vet. He knows Connor is needed at the station.

>>You caught the bad guy,  
Markus says.

>>You saved the dog,  
Connor tells him.  
>>Is it all right if I kiss you before you go?

>>It's always all right,  
Markus says. He's still not quite feeling it, though, with the cameras recording and pictures being taken. He's gotten used to that in the past year, but this morning really set him back. Still, the answer is yes. If he starts letting it get to him now, it will just build.

Connor has to feel his hesitancy, because when he leans in, the kiss is quick, really just a peck, as though they're nothing more than friends. He feels that spark that's always there when their skin touches; that tiny jump of a connection, and it breaks his heart how much he wants more, now. How much he wants their casual intimacy back – and how much work he's going to have to put into that. 

He'll do it, though. He didn't let Perkins win the last time, and he won't let him now. 

** ** **

 

April 17th 2040

**Fandroid forums**

**Sex tape chat**

 

AndyPanda: Guys, I don't know what to say. I don't even know if I'm still welcome here. Connor asked me to tell you all everything. I'm just going to put the whole story in in Real-Life-Shit and you can read it there if you want. And, I'm sorry.

ArtThot39: Oh Andrea, sweetie anyone in your position would have done the same thing. You were blackmailed straight up, pure and simple. Are you okay?

MrsKamski: Girl it is just good to hear from you. The shit about Wayne made the news. I'm glad that fucker is going to jail finally.

AndyPanda: Well I got my ID back and IT said they'd give me my old job back at the same salary once I got that all squared away so... and I'm back in my actual home now thank god. Casey is in the hospital but they say she'll be home tomorrow. I'm a little scared here without her. I keep thinking Wayne or one of his friends is going to break in or something. IDK. I'll be okay. Guys, Hank Anderson said he would send a patrol car around my house and also question some of Wayne's shithead friends. So that makes me feel a little better. I am gonna have to testify against Perkins too.

ArtThot39: Good. Take him the fuck down.

AndyPanda: I will have to. I have to repay and atone for what I did.

ReinOnMe: Oh sweetie... No one blames you.

REDLED: important question, did Connor lick things in your house?

AndyPanda: lmao yes he did. I mean Wayne was coming to kill me at the time so I didn't get to enjoy it as much as I should have but yes. Listen guys I am so tired but I can't sleep. I think I'll just leave the chat on all night and listen to notifications. If I stop answering, that's why. I'm going to sleep on the couch till Casey is home.

ArtThot39: Good idea. If you freak out, just go to voice chat and wake one of us up. I'm up all night anyway so.

AndyPanda: Cool you guys, ty so much. OH. One important thing you need to know before I fall asleep. Guys. GUYS. North is _so beautiful._

** ** **

 

May 10th 2040

**NEW ANDROID RIGHTS BILL EXPECTED TO PASS TODAY**

**This afternoon, President Warren is expected to sign into law a vast new bill detailing the rights of androids. In a speech this morning, the president said: “If we are to believe that androids are intelligent, conscious, and sentient—and I think that, by now, we must believe that—then they also must be able to benefit from the same rights that all citizens enjoy. This historic bill will lay out a new set of civil rights laws, including, but not limited to, the rights of androids to receive fair wages for labor, to testify in courts of law, to vote, to inherit property, and to marry. Included in this bill are other civil rights protections, which will prohibit discrimination in a number of settings, such as housing, shelters, or rentals, on the basis of being an android.”**

**The bill is expected to pass sometime today.**

_Comments:_

_Alex: I'm sorry BACK THE F*CK UP. Just... let's everyone go back and read one key word up there. Just ONE WORD. “INHERIT.” Now think about this, humans. Who is the ONE android who would stand to benefit from “INHERITING” something from a human._

_Reply to this:_

_PenIsMightier: Uhh hmm let me think about that, IDK, maybe a few THOUSAND, dipsh*t? LMAO you know there are child androids, right? Who will also inherit from their, well I guess they are legally parents now. (I wonder how those child androids will grow up? Maybe just get new bodies? It's interesting.)_

_reply to this:_

_Alex: The RK200 released his own sex tape, you're willfully blind if you can't see that. He did it to gain sympathy for the new bill so he could inherit his rich owner's estate._

_Reply to this:_

_PenIsMightier: Richard Perkins retired over this and might go to jail, and they CAUGHT the people who did it. I guess facts aren't real in your world. Anyway, like I said. Can't argue with stupid. Have a nice night, numbnuts._

_CarlsPainbrush: I hope Carl Manfred does leave something to Markus tbh. I have one of Carl's earlier paintings in my office (YES it cost a lot! But this was from many years ago!) I've followed his work since before anyone else liked it and I remember when he had the accident and when he got Markus, I remember feeling so happy for him when he could paint again and a lot of that was down to his android being there to help him. Markus is part of his family and he deserves to be recognized._

_Alex: You all keep drinking the Kool Aid._

_MrsFrazzld: OK sure but that “Kool Aid” was delicious. I have “drank” the “Kool Aid” at least ten times since the release of the “Kool Aid.” ^^ hehee_

_MOTC: They are sentient. They are citizens. They are soulful and can think and feel and love. I don't understand how this is still in question more than a year after their awakening. I'm sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry it took violating the privacy of two young gentlemen for people to see this. However, I know this will lead to a better future for androids everywhere. Why them? Markus is the most well-known android on the planet. He's a natural leader and self-made man. Carl Manfred only ever encouraged what was already there. I couldn't be happier that the two RKs found each other in this chaos and have reconnected. The RKs were always meant to be compatible; that's why I found it so vulgar that CyberLife took the 800 and turned him into a hunter, pitting them against each other. It's as I always say, and you can take my word for it: The RK models were literally made for each other._

 

** ** **

 

May 10th 2040

 

The blinds are drawn, the door is locked. The hotel room is bland, colorless, and with a small refrigerator that the staff had stocked with thirium. Connor thinks that's funny. Thirium doesn't need to be refrigerated. But the humans are trying to be nice, helpful. Markus had checked in under a different name, but it was obvious, since he's got a speaking engagement tomorrow – another paid one. Though this hotel had been a perk. There have been lots of perks in the last few weeks.

On the way to the hotel, they had passed by some street art, a 10'X6' mural of him and Markus, both wrapped in Markus's coat, Connor with that stupid fake crown on his head. And beneath it the quote “My crown is called content.” Markus had seen that and literally facepalmed. Connor had merely hoped that neither Carl nor Hank would come across any depictions in public, because there had been a few. 

It's taken them a while to get back to where they are now—naked, pressed together, hands roaming—and maybe they're still not 100 percent yet. Markus is on top of him, but the bedsheet is pulled over both of them, covering Markus's back.

Connor still feels paranoid; he'd checked the hotel room for an hour, pushing through Markus's impatience. Now that Markus has him naked on the bed, Connor can feel his lingering nervousness about being watched again.

Connor doesn't feel the shame of having been seen; just of having failed at protecting Markus. It's hard to shake.

It's messing with them in ways he hadn't expected, and he's tired of it, so he reaches up behind Markus and whips the sheet away, making Markus stop what he's doing and look down at him, a curious frown on his face, as if he doesn't know what this is about. He does.

“I want to see you,” Connor tells him. “If you feel comfortable with it. If you're not up to it, I'll understand.”

“I'm... Connor, of course I'm up to it.” He scrubs a hand over his face – tired of his shame. “I've been weird lately. I'm sorry.”

Connor flips their positions so he's on all fours over Markus. “It's not weird. _You're_ not weird. It's a natural reaction and one that I share.”

Markus reaches up to run fingers over Connor's face, with that look he gets: serious, contemplative. Connor loves it, it makes him look dignified; only, when he'd told that to North, she'd burst out laughing and said that Markus just had Resting Bitch Face.

“I'm yours, Connor,” Markus says. “Take what you need.”

What he needs. He doesn't know where to start. Connor likes touching; he's fixated on it (“programmed for it” he used to say, but his friends all encourage him to use more organic terms for his feelings.) He reacts—no, he _feels_ connected when he touches others, and particularly when he tastes – though that's not acceptable with anyone aside from Markus. So he skims his fingertips down Markus's shoulders and arms, feeding information through his sensors. Warmth. Soft here. Scar here. Smooth, rough. He bends down to taste the skin on Markus's ribs, the texture of the scar there; he can almost feel the lingering pain through their connection.

Markus moans his name and reaches up to grip his shoulders with spasming fingers. This was a good idea, pushing him a little. Sometimes Connor has the best ideas.

Markus already knows he's objectively beautiful; Connor doesn't need to say in words that he thinks so, too. He can transmit with his fingers and with his mouth, that Markus is better than just “beautiful” to him; that he knows who Markus is, where he got every one of these scars, where he's been, what made him, and how he remade himself. Connor finds him amazing; not rA9, not a public figure, not for what he can get out of him. He loves the soft roundness of Markus's face but also the prideful tilt of his head; he loves the mismatched eyes, but also the spirit behind them; he loves that devastating, downturned smile and perfect, synthetic teeth, but also the secret little grin that Markus gives him when they're in public together. 

He's saying so with every dart of his tongue against Markus's skin and every touch of his fingers, which are glowing now, skin retracted, and Markus is twisting feverishly under him, and panting like a human. When he gets down between Markus's thighs, pushes them apart and takes him into his mouth, Markus cries out his name in surprise. Connor hums in response.

“I want--” Markus begins, but doesn't have it in him to continue. His hands are petting through the short hair at the back of Connor's neck and he seems inclined to let this go on. Connor is more than happy to oblige.

“Can I fuck you tonight?” Markus says, finally.

“Hmm?” Connor pulls away and sits back on his heels, as Markus braces up on his palms to meet him halfway. “Oh. Yes, of course. I'd love nothing more.”

“' _I'd love nothing more,_ '” Markus gently mocks, in Connor's inflection.

Connor puts a hand to Markus's chest and shoves him back down. Markus laughs and stares up at him and says, “Come here,” with a crook of his finger.

Connor crawls forward to him and Markus gets up on his knees.

“Like this?” Connor asks, straddling across his thighs.

“Yeah. So I can see you.”

When Connor sinks down onto him, Markus wraps him up in his arms, just the way he likes to be held: close and tight, almost crushed. This would bruise a human, crack their delicate ribs. It just feels good: Markus inside him, all around him, his hands running up and down his spine. They can move together like this, both in control. He can cradle Markus's head in his hands, tilt his head back to drink in every kiss and every gasp.

The rest of the world can have Markus on stage, in his fancy suits, fighting for freedoms like this. They can even have Connor, standing beside him, scanning the crowd coldly for anyone whose stress level is too high, or whose eyes focus for too long on Markus's center mass. They can even keep what they already took: one night out of hundreds, each unique.

But not this, and not ever again. 

The rest is forgotten, for now. 

** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DICKS OUT FOR DEVIANCY
> 
>  
> 
> I need to seriously thank Headraline, for keeping me going, for correcting a mistake with my numbers, and for sticking with what was supposed to be a PWP but turned into a *THING*. Thank you! <3


End file.
